


Handbags and GladWAGs

by Agoodcaptain



Category: Cricket RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:41:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27146056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agoodcaptain/pseuds/Agoodcaptain
Summary: After the 2013/14 Australia Ashes, Stuart and Steve argue about their place on the team and their relationship
Relationships: Stuart Broad/Steven Finn
Kudos: 8





	Handbags and GladWAGs

**Author's Note:**

> So this is *really* old, probably written during my first spate of writing fic back in the day, probably pretty soon after that horrible series. It's definitely not part of my usual Brinn timeline but thought it was still cute so enjoy!

Alastair insisted on it - a team dinner with the test side after the last loss. Although it had been the last thing the downtrodden changing room full of men had felt like doing, it actually did them good. After the disaster that was the five-nil whitewash, and the realisation that came with that: that changes to the team were inevitable, perhaps even a new skipper (a silent threat that lingered in the air that no one was willing to discuss, hoping it would go away if they all just ignored it) this might be the last time they would have together. There wasn’t anything special about the food or the restaurant, just friends, a few beers and a hushed but not solemn air.

In truth, Stuart Broad actually felt almost relaxed when he got back to the hotel. And it wasn’t because of his last two innings’ batting totals, which were amongst his better ones. For, like all in the England group, he couldn’t be happy with personal triumphs when the team had failed; miserably, at that. Still, there was ODIs and Twenty20 to go, and Stuart felt not quite hopeful, but not as down as a few hours ago. Without thinking, he marched into Steven Finn’s room and, again without thinking, locked the door behind him.

Blaring from Finny’s TV was some trashy reality show. Stu rolled his eyes but was secretly pleased at the predictability of it. Even ten thousand miles from Blighty, it felt like coming home. When Stu came further into the room, he could see that despite the lights and TV still being on full, Finny was asleep. Dressed in just Watford football shorts, Finny was curled on his side and breathing heavily. Totally captivated by the sight, Stuart drifted to the bed and ran his hands up and down Finny’s side, feeling the skin where it had been goose pimpled by the air conditioning. Finny slowly roused at his touch, and rolled over onto his back smiling at Stuart who beamed back, yes this was truly home.

“I guess I fell asleep,” Finny blushed, slowly sitting up and reaching for the remote, turning off the television.  
“I guess you did,” Stuart murmured, leaning down for a brief kiss.  
Finny hummed into it, still with the same soppy smile on his face.  
“So, how was dinner?” Finny asked, holding onto his toes like a little kid.  
“Good, well… not good but necessary. Cooky has that way of making you feel better. So do you, by the way,” Stuart nudged Finny’s shoulder gratefully as he said this.  
“I hope it’s not the same way of making you feel better.” Finny laughed, yawning.  
“I’m serious Finny, you always support me. Thank you.”  
“You’re welcome Stu.”  
Stuart leaned in for another kiss and as he did so, he made his fatal mistake, “You’re such a good little WAG, babe.”  
“Excuse me?” Finny put his arms out to stop Stuart from closing the distance between them. He was definitely awake now.

“It was just a joke, babe.” Stuart spluttered, perplexed by his lover’s reaction.  
“Oh, just a joke. I mean homophobic, for one, but just a joke.” Finny retorted, standing with the rage that now seized him.  
“Homophobic? I’m g-“  
“Yes, you can be homophobic even if you’re gay you fucking simpleton.”  
“Fine. I’m sorry. I was just kidding around, you know, because you didn’t… you know…” Stuart trailed off, realising he was digging himself even deeper.  
“I didn’t, what? Make the test side? Even after the series was lost. Even with three debutants coming in. Yeah, cheers for the reminder, darling.” The last word was spat, the term not the least bit endearing in this context.

Steven Finn was now marching the confined space between bed and wall of the hotel room. The scene was almost comical but Stuart knew laughing would be up there with the worst things he could do right now. Finny shivered and Stu felt the instinct to put his arms around his boyfriend and hold him until he warmed up, but again, this would be a bad idea so he just watched as Finny grabbed a jumper from the chair and put it on. Stuart noticed that it was actually his jumper but put the thought of pointing this out in the rapidly increasing bad idea pile. Instead, Stuart decided flattery was the best tack, “You know that I think you deserved to play.” It was the truth but Stuart had the sense that it wouldn’t be enough.  
“But you didn’t do anything about it, did you? Given ample opportunity and influence within the team, you fucking did nothing.”  
Stuart who until now had been calm, felt the heat rise in his neck, “So, what? I’m supposed to go up to Cooky and say, can you pretty please pick my secret boyfriend for the next test, I think he looks really fit in Test whites.”  
“Well, yes. Since I’m your _secret_ boyfriend, you could have had a sly word, yes. Since I’m the man you supposedly love, yes that is what you’re supposed to do. Since I am a good fucking cricketer, yes you should have done that.”

There was a silence and Finny sat huffily down on the bed, facing away from Stu. The heat was rapidly dissipating from Stuart’s neck and was being replaced by a shamefaced reddish hue on his cheeks.  
After what seemed like an age, Finny spoke without turning around, “I think Cooky knows about us anyway.”  
“What? What makes you think that?” Stuart was panicking now, but Finny seemed pretty casual about the idea that their friend and captain might know about their clandestine relationship.  
Finny shrugged, “Captain’s intuition, maybe. Really good gaydar, more likely.”  
“You think Cooky is gay?” Stuart snorted, “Trust me, he’s not. Even after three tequilas, he’s not.”  
Finny turned around to stare at Stuart, his face first indicating intrigue but was closely followed by an expression that said ‘I really don’t want to know this story, do I?’  
“Anyway, point is. Cooky. Not gay.” Stuart affirmed, blushing all over again.  
“He may not be a full blown friend of Elton like yourself. But he went to a male boarding school, I’m pretty sure he’s familiar with an all-boys downstairs handshake, if you know what I mean.”  
“I know what you mean, Finny, no need for the accompanying hand gesture.”  
Finny laughed and dropped his hand.

“How did we get on to this?” Stuart said, merely wondering out loud but instantly regretting it, after remembering that they had just been arguing.  
“We were talking about how you don’t take me seriously-” Finny replied  
“I do take you seriously,” Stuart began but Finny wasn’t done yet.  
“- About how you don’t respect me as a professional, how you think I’m just here to applaud from the sidelines while I swap fucking makeup tips with the other WAGs. Does that about sum it up Princess?”  
“Princess? When did we start calling me Princess?”  
“Is that really what you’re focusing on, you’re fucking unbelievable.”  
“I can think of a smart arse response to that but I can also tell I’m about halfway to sleeping in my own room so…”  
“Yeah, right now, you’re about in the hallway.”

“Look baby,” Stu tried but got a glare from Finny. He started again, “Steven Thomas Finn, I think you are an amazing cricketer with a bright future ahead of you.”  
“Good start,” Finny said, unsmiling still.  
“I value you as a professional and a teammate for many reasons that have nothing to do with the fact that you’re a complete sexpot.”  
“Sexpot? Like a pot of sex?” Finny is almost smiling now. Almost.  
“Like a sexy pot of sex. A very professional, talented teammate… whose shorts I want to rip off right about now.”  
Finny has to laugh at this. Though he clearly wants to be mad for a few minutes longer. In the end, he just groaned and collapsed onto the bed, “Why did I fall in love with you Broady? You’re hard bloody work.”  
“My beautiful blonde locks?” Stuart teased, jumping onto the bed next to him.  
“Which you dye! Actually, when you think about it, you’re much more of a WAG than I am,” Finny counted with his fingers, “Dyed hair, tanning beds, waxing.”  
Finny started giggling loudly, which Stu took great offense at.  
“First of all, I don’t dye my hair anymore,” Stuart was interrupted by Finny scoffing at him. “Okay, I hardly ever dye my hair anymore. I went to a tanning bed once and swore you to secrecy about,” Stuart gave a hard look to his boyfriend who made a gesture of sealing his lips and throwing away the key.  
“And thirdly,” Stu continued, “The waxing was for your benefit. I didn’t hear you moaning about it in bed afterward. In fact you were moaning something else, what was it? Oh yes, it was: Stuart! Oh, Stu! Yes, Stu! Yes! Yes!” Stuart was openly mocking Finny now who had to elbow him into silence.  
“Do you want to wake the whole floor?” Finny warned.  
“After this tour babe, I think that ship has sailed.” Stuart breathed, but he didn’t really mean it. They were always quiet. They had to be.

The two men spent the next few moments just breathing in silence together until Finny rolled onto his side and leaned over Stuart.  
“Don’t call me a WAG ever again, yeah?” Finny warned.  
“Or what? You’ll whack me with your handbag?” Stuart teased. It was a dangerous joke to make, and after he said it, Stu mentally chastised his stupidity but lucky for him, instead of starting the argument again, Finny laughed.  
“Broady, you’re lucky you’re pretty.” Finny hissed, jokingly seething.  
“I’m lucky to have you,” Stuart replied, without thinking, and for a rare moment, being completely serious.  
Stuart weaved his own hands together behind Finny’s head above him and stared into his puppy-dog eyes.  
“I love you Steven Finn, you professional sexpot.”  
“Well, I love you too you talented Barbie doll.”  
“Great, I don’t even get Ken. Cheers for that.”  
Finny laughed guiltily and planted a brief kiss on Stuart’s pink lips.

But after the argument, Stuart wasn’t just going to settle for that and pulled Finny’s head towards him to deepen the kiss. Finny let out a little surprised moan of pleasure and instinctively moved his hands to Stuart’s waist and slid his hands up the blonde’s skinny chest. As he moved upwards, he pulled away from the kiss in shock, “Shit Stu, your nips could cut glass right now.”  
Stuart wanted to laugh but attempted a slicker response; removing his own shirt over his head before replying, “Feel free to warm them up.”  
Now Finny couldn’t contain his laugh, “Oh God, that is the cheesiest line ever.”  
“Got a million more of those babe.” Stuart smirked and Finny knew he pretty much did but decided to humour his daft boyfriend and took off his jumper before turning his attention to the blonde’s frozen nipples, planting warm kisses on each.

They had done this several hundred times before but Finny could still feel Stuart’s heart racing as he put his lips to his chest. The realisation made him smile as he kissed his way up to Stuart’s neck, then jaw line, then lips, thrusting his tongue between them as they started kissing again. When Stuart finally broke apart from him, he was breathless and wild-eyed, “So about those shorts…”  
“Oh wow, that one was even worse.” Finny groaned but nonetheless willingly shimmied out of them, without Stuart having to rip them off, although he wouldn’t have minded either way.


End file.
